Stupid Little Girl
by Sacred Demise
Summary: A painfully blunt and honest Draco fic. Draco talks about a filthy little mudblood. His stupid little girl. Read and Review please!


Stupid Little Girl  
by: Sacred Demise  
  
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I killed that mudblood tonight. Dirty. Filthy. Useless. That's all it was. It doesn't even deserve a proper name. Only it. It's a shame really, to see one with such knowledge be put to waste, but such knowledge shouldn't be used for that which it was. And it can't be used for things other than that, unless it was by blood. But as widely known, it wasn't by blood for this one. There was no Saviour. No Redeeming Moment. Nothing to define what it had become. The poor, poor thing. If only she had known, she could have saved herself. But she had counted on him for far too long to stop now. Why would this time present itself any different. Well, why did the other times present themselves all the same? Did they bring her hope? Only temporarily. For there was never true hope. Never a chance for her to find herself. Nor to find anything else for that matter. Only a false sense of security. I knew she was going to be easy. Everything she knew was him. Oh, how brave. How charming. So predictable. Yet predictability has its own plans sometimes. It's own decisions. Well this was one of those times. Yes, this was one of those special circumstances. Don't ask me to define determination for you. For none has been shown. None has recieved proper mention where due. No, because it was never due. Never required. All she had to show was reliability. Well it looks like she learned her lesson. Looks like the hero couldn't save her this time. Now who will save the hero? Noone. And that's the beauty of it all.  
  
Such an easy target. I knew I had to have her the moment I laid eyes on her. I knew she belonged to me. Her filthy blood. She was the reason people like me were, everyday, being put to shame. Well little did she know, I would be the death of her. She was scum. She was a stupid little girl. Mindless. All of that knowledge couldn't supply her with any amount of wisdom. None of it compared to what I had. I could offer her so much, without really giving it to her. I just had to make her believe. Reel her in. Give her everything she hated, and make her believe it was all she'd ever wanted. Everything she hated. Me. The thought of me. The fact of me. The reality of me. Little old vile me. I knew she wouldn't be able to stand it. She'd eventually give in, allowing me full use of her mind. I could make her do anything I wanted. Soon all my plans were to be fulfilled. All thanks to the filthy little mudblood. My filthy little mudblood.  
  
It's a shame really. The little totem of school pride. The little boy with the broomstick and an ego so big he was too afraid to show it, thus never revealing his true colors. Green and gold that is. Why yes, a true Slytherin at heart. Does it come as shock to you? I would suppose so, seeing as us Slytherins are the most miserable of things. So negative. Our presence is a real shame isn't it. A degration to you of the golden hearts. So how can it be that our existence is essential to your survival? How can it be that our actuality will be the cause of your cession to exist? Cruel isn't it? It must be our genuine kindness. No? Well then it must be the fact that without our permanence, you would be nothing. We are the essence of which you breathe. Our continuation is your duration. It must be our blood. So pure. So beautiful. Virtually flawless. Factually superior. We are your Saviour. Your Redeeming Moment. We are that which you have come to fear the most. Your lifeline. We will strip you of all reason. All of your knowledge. Your pride.  
  
It's a widely known fact. All of life comes down to one thing, only one. And that is to become something that you will spit on with regret, with hatred. Yet to be something that you will admire above all else. To portray something of greatness. Of ability. To be the best. To kick them when they're down and to deny them life before they can scramble their way back onto their feet. It's something that we all have to learn atleast once. And something that others must learn every day. Even those of great status can't avoid it. Even someone with the reputation of a hero. Even a traitor. Even the one she loved.  
  
She didn't know she loved him. She didn't know she would ever love him. For she loved me. Yes, it was I who swept her off her feet, made her believe she was something more than my dirty little game piece. Something more than what she was, or what she ever could be. But she was only trash. Only a blemish on my otherwise perfect being.  
  
For so long she had trusted him. Time after time she had put all of her hope in his success. His fame. But that's all it was. Fame. There was nothing real about it. I was real. Perhaps too real. She couldn't handle me, yet she couldn't resist. She couldn't love me, yet she couldn't tell the difference between love and hate. My ignominy. Mine. She belonged to me. I was all she had. I was her Saving Grace. Her life. She was my slave. My filth. My stupid little girl.  
  
Well looks like my stupid little girl shouldn't have trusted the stranger.  
Looks like my stupid little girl was a little too stupid for her own good.  
  
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A/N: I suppose I got tired of the fluffy little Draco/Hermione perfect romance stuff. It's all just fake. Draco would never love Hermione. She is his trash. And Hermione would never love Draco. For he is her superior. Reviews please! Pretty, pretty please!  



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